Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 2/7 - Errors

I recently earned a $35 gift card doing a survey. Since I haven't carried copies of Close to the Edge for about two years, I decided to order a couple, hoping to have all five of my books on display at the floating book shop once/if Exchanges makes it into print. Edge was self-published way back in 2000. I never regretted having done it that way, even though I lost about $500 on the deal, using the strictest calculations. Most of those copies were bought with money and gift certificates I earned on the web, not out of pocket. If I counted those costs as zero, the book would be profitable. Of course, the figures don't show the invaluable experience I gained in what to do with my other books. I have a chance to break even on Adjustments, and I've turned a slight profit on both A Hitch in Twilight and Killing. I managed to sell 348 copies of Edge, but I bought them in such dribs and drabs and often at full cost at Amazon or B&N that I made it virtually impossible to ever recoup my investment in terms of real and virtual dollars. The only way I would is if about 150 people bought it on the web, as it is not available in physical stores. The royalty is $3.59 per copy. The only way those of us at the bottom of the heap would achieve literary financial success would be to generate web sales. With at least eight million titles available, the competition is fierce. Anyway, getting back to my most recent order. The package seemed a little thin. I assumed they had mailed a copy that was on hand and would send the other later. Wrong! There was one copy of Edge and one of The Presbyterian Elder, a guide for those who aspire to that position. I just sent out a second email, explaining the situation. Will they believe me? I'm skeptical. AuthorHouse changed its name from 1st Books Library years ago, perhaps to avoid the stench of the bad ratings it received from disappointed writers. I never had a problem with them until they stopped paying royalties for copies bought with a gift certificate, as if they weren't receiving full value. In my case, they owe me about $25. Instead of getting into a long fight with them, I simply stopped ordering books. This time I should at least receive the seven dollars of royalty, which would make the total cost of the book 22 and change, a potential loss of twelve dollars. If I get the other copy and sell them at ten each, it would be a loss of only two. Either way, it will be such fun to have five of my own books on display, or even four if Exchanges doesn't see the light of day..

In order to secure a favorable parking spot to operate the floating book shop, I left the house an hour before the alternate side regulation expired. Alas, it did not help - no sales today, and it looks like I'll be sidelined at least the next two days. The local news departments are in a panic about the coming storm. This morning WOR-AM's John Gambling welcomed Congressman Peter King to discuss the drone controversy. King facetiously apologized for interrupting the biggest story of all time, the storm, drawing howls from the crew, all of whom could be heard laughing in the background. It was a great dig (pun intended) at the folly that is local news any time a weather event approaches.
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Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 2/6 - Ambition

Among the many book donations I’ve received the past few months, there was The Poor Whore and the Chinese Queen by Richard Mills, a collection of ten short stories. There is no publisher listed in it, nor is there a publication date, or author bio. I assume it was self-published at a local printer. The stories were published previously in literary magazines of note, i.e. The Massachusetts Review, Sou’wester, crazyhorse, Dalhousie Review and Descant. None of the 50+ stories I’ve had published found their way into such prestigious journals. His track record is even more remarkable given the length of some of the pieces, which run more than 30 pages. I’d guess they began appearing in the 80’s, as one of the titles is Since Tito Died. The former Yugoslavian leader passed in 1980. I googled Mills’ name and came up empty. I searched the title of the book and was unable to find it listed anywhere. Like me, Mills must have had a grand literary ambition. I would guess that his major influence was James Joyce, particularly the poignant novella, The Dead. Apparently, his family emigrated from Ireland to rural Canada when he was five. Almost all the stories touch on this in some way. The main themes seem to be isolation and the unfortunate disconnect between humans, even family members. The characters are genuine. The scenarios do not veer from ordinary life, the mystery of it, the sadness that dogs people despite the vast beauty around us. It is existentialism in terms anyone with patience would understand. He may have gone to college in California, and eventually settled in London after traveling extensively in Europe. Was he gay? The title piece is a visit between two males, one who fondly recalls his cross-dressing. Another story hints at it, but the other eight do not and the protagonists are involved with women. Throughout the book, there are corrections in ink. Were they made by the author, a lover or friend? I’ve frequently said that no work is ever finished. An artist may get to 99%, but he will always find flaws or omissions. And so the mystery - what happened to Mills? Did he pass away, perhaps of AIDS? Did he simply give up the literary quest, which seems unlikely, given his breakthroughs? Perhaps he grew old or resisted the advantages of the digital age. I am fairly certain that I would have given up the quest if not for the personal computer. There are so many options available these days, especially to writers who don’t mind thinking small. Of course, almost all dream of a breakout, which is more possible today, although the odds are still long. Before the digital age, trying to get published was exasperating, more like banging one’s head against the wall. Now, almost anyone can get into print. Is that better than the selectiveness of the old way? My opinion is biased.

I accompanied a friend to the doctor today, and it turned into a marathon, but I got paid for it and had a free lunch, so I dare not complain about not being able to operate the floating book shop. The only bad thing, really, is that it appears this will have been the best weather day of the week. I'll need to get lucky with parking tomorrow to be able to sell books in the cold.
Visit Vic's sites:
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Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
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Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on The Streets of Brooklyn 2/5 - Kings

DNA testing has confirmed that remains found beneath a London parking lot are those of King Richard III, killed at the age of 32 in the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485. He ruled only two years, a reign described as "bloody." His skull was cloven, probably by an ax-like weapon. Ouch. Shakespeare immortalized him in 1542, portraying him as a fiendish villain, ugly and deformed, a hunchback, which study of his bone structure also confirms. The role is any serious actor’s dream. It has been played by John Wilkes Booth, Al Pacino, Ian McKellen, Kevin Spacey, John Barrymore, Laurence Olivier, F. Murray Abraham, Kenneth Brannagh, and a host of other names listed at Wiki that I did not recognize. The play begins with these immortal words:
“Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;”
John Steinbeck borrowed from it for the title of a great novel. Has there ever been a writer who hasn’t borrowed from the Bard? One may be influenced without realizing it, as his words have been used by many, including screenwriters, through the ages. While writing the climactic chapter of Killing, I kept thinking: What's this remind me of? It was Hamlet plotting to kill the king - duh! Richard III climaxes with the unforgettable line: “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse,” just before the protagonist gets his just desserts. There is a society in England devoted to the rehabilitation of his image. Good luck with that. Although Shakespeare’s take is not that of an eyewitness, it will endure, as it has for hundreds of years already.

Not much action at the floating book shop today. I thank the gentleman who purchased the CD of Benny Goodman's famous 1938 concert at Carnegie Hall. Goodman was called The King of Swing. There are more than 30 tracks in the set, including the incredible Sing Sing Sing, highlighted by the legendary Gene Krupa's unbelievable drumming. I guess it could be said that he was the king of percussion at that time.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
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Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
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Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 2/4 - Postgame

I hope Ray Lewis spends the rest of his life more gracefully than he has up till now. He must realize how blessed he's been, not only to have won two Super Bowls but to walk on charges of Criminal Conspiracy and Obstruction of Justice. Perhaps his atonement will begin immediately. He can start by being a good father to the six children he's had with four different women. As for the game, it was very entertaining. Since I've coached football myself, I hate to second guess coaches, who spend so much time with their team and so much thinking about it off the field. Given the fact that the Ravens best defensive lineman was sidelined, I would have run Frank Gore four straight times when it was first and goal. Of course, my nature is conservative, and the modern NFL is anything but. As for the halftime show, I'm completely unfamiliar with Beyonce's music, but I've always enjoyed seeing her picture in the NY Post. She looked great, as did her former Destiny's Child mates. At that point I was concentrating more on the fabulous goodies my friends Adam and Sharon cooked up. The ribs were outrageous. This was the first SB party at their new home in Marine Park, a less than ten-minute drive from my apartment in Sheepshead Bay. The house was one of many built for veterans of WWI. It is cozy and beautiful. Kal, their son, is studying film at Brooklyn College. Kayla, a freshman at Goldstein High School, is on the girls' varsity basketball team. She sees playing time during routs. She is going to be at least as tall as her mom, and I bet she will be an outstanding player by the time she's a senior. She, her brother, and their friends thought the chips ad with the dogs was the best of the lot. The one that stood out most in my mind was the nerd kissing beautiful model Bar Rafaeli. If it were me, I would have been asking the director to do take after take: "I know I can do it better." As for those who were offended by the white guy's Jamaican accent -- "Get a life, mon." This marks the unofficial end of the holiday season and we can now all get back to a sensible diet.

The state government of Texas has a 5.5 billion dollar surplus. Governor Rick Perry wants to amend the Lone Star's constitution in order to refund the money to the taxpayers. I'm still baffled by Perry's awful performance in the race for the Republican party presidential nomination. Then again, perhaps previous Republican governors, including the evil George Bush, have made it a place so hospitable to business as to now be running on its own momentum.

I would not have been able to run the floating book shop today without the perfect parking spot. I sat in the back seat watching people hurry by, faces reddened by the merciless wind. Still, it was a wise decision to open, as Marie came by with five more Swing Era CDs, and I was able to repay in part the kindness of the elderly hand-holding Russian couple, who have donated so many books to me, by giving them CDs of Tchaikovsky and Rimsky-Korsakov. Thanks, folks.
Visit Vic's sites:
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Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 2/3 - Super

These days I look forward more to the Super Bowl party than to the game, especially since neither the Giants nor Jets is playing. Each year I go to Adam and Sharon’s. They used to live right around the corner, so it was a five minute walk door to door. They’ve bought a house in Marine Park and it will be the first time I’m visiting it. We used to see each other every work day, but now Adam is the only one of us still working at the Exchange. In fact, he read a copy of the original manuscript for Exchanges, my fourth novel, fifth book, which should be issued shortly. He thought I nailed the madness that was commodity trading in the open outcry era, before electronic trading assumed control of the markets, and changed the atmosphere completely. I hope that’s true. The only other person to have read it, my college buddy Jim, was shocked by and disapproving of that bizarre world, an outsider’s perspective. I hope readers find the scenes on the trading floor comic, profane though many of them are. It took me years to get used to it, and I never got to the point where I felt it was a second home, as much as I loved and admired many of the people who worked there. I was always amazed at how passionate many of the traders were about the action. Of course, that is a good thing, although the result was often harsh and exasperating, and occasionally demeaning. The world needs those types as much as it needs any others. One of the greatest things about the freedom America provides is the variety that comes from it. Everyone is allowed to find a niche. The trading floor wasn’t mine, but employment there, the short work day and generous benefits, allowed me to pursue my literary folly. And the wide assortment of ethnic origins and personalities provided as wonderful a perspective of the human condition as can be, something I try to capture in my most serious work. This will seem strange, but it took me years to come up with an appropriate title for the book - when it should have been obvious all along. One day I got to wondering how many people I knew on a first name basis, having worked there more than 20 years. And I knew something about each one, enough to converse for at least a few minutes. Exchanges is in part about the brief connections we make with others each day. I do not miss working there, but I realize how privileged I was to have experienced it. Oddly, I recall my days at St. Mary’s Elementary School with a similar fondness, despite the ridicule and blows I received from the nuns there. For years I was appalled by and afraid of the world. One of the best things that ever happened to me was stumbling into a job at the Exchange. The world will always be a scary place, but working the trading floor helped me a great deal in learning how to cope with it.

Fortunately, I was not deterred by the forecast. Since there were no flurries in the air when I exited the old house, laundry in tow, I headed to Bay Parkway. The floating book shop was not set up more than a few minutes when Maryann came along and bought five fantasy novels. A minute later Bad News Billy bought 30 of the Big Band Era CDs that Marie had donated. And a few other people bought stuff as well. It shows what may happen when the effort is made. Thanks, folks.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 2/2 - Shadow

My thanks to Jack of Chase Bank, who purchased three thrillers and donated one. Fortunately, the sun was out and we both saw our shadows, which means life will be life, whatever the temperature. It's still cold out there, and windier than had been predicted. Here's something that provides heat, another excerpt from my near 200,000 word rock n roll epic, Rising Star:

21                                                         "...They're all waiting there to sell plastic ware...."*

   Mitchell, Paul and Richie entered the lobby of a building in midtown, where they found John seated, smoking, legs crossed. Soon Susan and Mike arrived. Paul imagined they'd spent the night together. He wondered how Mike could ignore her promiscuity, which he'd had evidence of New Year's Eve. He surmised that Mike was so content to have a second lover that he didn't care what she did as long as it wasn't with anyone else in the band. He regretted not having fired him. He didn't think success justified degeneracy and divorce.
   "I'll go up and see if they're ready for us," said Susan, tense.
   "What'sa matter, Mikey?" said Richie, plopping onto a couch. "Ya look like ya jus' seen a ghost. Relax. It's gonna be a piece'a cake."
   "I lost my job," he said glumly. "The Jew fired me. They wouldn't gimme the day off, so I called in sick, an' they told me not to come back. I been takin' a lotta days lately 'cause of all the gigs. I had a coupla accidents too, nothin' serious, though. I had 'em 'cause I was tired. I ain't told Rosemarie yet. I couldn't."
   "Didn't you say she wanted you to quit?" said Paul.
   "We'll see what she says when the checks stop comin' in."
   Richie smirked. "Whattaya wanna be a truck driver for, anyway? After today we might not need real jobs. Tell ya what - if we don' get a contract, we'll look for a job togetha so we can cover for each other."
   "Why do we even have to go through an audition?" said John. "He already saw us live. He heard the cassette, saw the video."
   "Maybe they wanna make sure it's a losin' proposition so they can write it off as a tax loss," said Paul, inciting laughter.
   "Or maybe they just want to torture us," said Mitchell.
   Mike donned sunglasses, eliciting groans.
   "Wha'? It's part of my image. I want 'em to know who I am."
   "I thought you put 'em on 'cause you didn't want anybody to know," said Paul contemptuously. "Just you don't forget who you are."
   "Ever notice how Paulie's mouth hangs open when he's playin' a lead?" Richie interjected, imitating the look. "He looks like a junkie."
   Paul hung his head as the others snickered.
   "Ever notice how perfect Mitchell is in everything?" said John. "Doesn't it annoy the hell out of you?"
   "Who the hell are you, anyway, John?" said Mike, inciting guffaws.
   "The Messiah - come to resurrect this band from the dead. Where would you be right now without me?"
   "Where would you be wit'out us, jerko?" said Richie. "Pimpin' yaself off?"
   "Where's Laura, by the way?" said Mitchell; "home room?"
   Everyone enjoyed the barb.
   "She's workin', wise guy. She's on co-op."
   "Somebody has to pay the bills."
   "I got her trained good. One taste an' she was hooked."
   "You mean one whiff and you were whipped."
   The others roared as Richie's face reddened.
   "She move in yet?" said Mike.
   "Nex' month when she turns eighteen."
   "You still have time to get nailed for statutory rape," said Mitchell. "You'd better marry her."
   "Who's rapin' statues?"
   The others, unsure whether he were joking or not, laughed so hard tears came to their eyes. When they'd calmed, Paul looked about the circle.
   "Isn't anybody nervous?"
   There were shrugs all about.
   "Why should we be?" said Richie. "We're good. It's on them if they don' take us."
   "Am I the only one?" said Mike, pacing. "How come it's always me? If we screw up it's goodbye contract."
   Paul smirked. "We're not gonna screw up. This's weird. I can't explain it, but this just doesn't seem real. I expect somebody to come down an' say: 'Go home, guys, we were only foolin'.' I mean, here we are at the most critical point of our careers - an' we're sittin' here raggin' on each other like nothin's at stake. Does Freud have a word for the way we're actin', Mitch?"
   "Screw him."
   "Screw you," said John.
   "Screw her," said Richie, rising, eyes widening as he nodded at the entrance, where a woman had just swung through the revolving door.
   "Screw me," said Mike, kneeling and clasping his hands as if in prayer.
   "I'd love to get into your pants, baby," said Richie.
   "I already have one asshole in there," the woman returned.
   The men roared. Richie rolled to the floor, kicking with delight.
   "She hear that someplace or just make it up off the top of her head?" said Paul, eying her intently.
   "Go after her," said Mitchell.
   "We have an audition."
   "It'll take a minute to get her number."
   "She's probably on the elevator by now."
   Peeved, Mitchell shook his head. "Don't ever let me hear you complaining about not getting any."
   Soon there was silence.
   "Screw 'em all," said Mike suddenly.
   By the time Susan arrived they were clutching their bellies. She stammered as she reprimanded them, which only made them laugh the more.
   "Screw you too," said Mike.
   "I'll screw 'er," said Richie, rising and unfastening his belt.
   "They're ready for us," she said, turning away, fuming.
   The laughter ceased. Their smiles disappeared. On the elevator, Paul heard his heart pounding amidst the sudden, profound silence. His chest tightened.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 2/1 - Trailer

It looks like a go:

I don't know when the book will be ready, but it's getting closer to reality. I'm trying to keep an even keel. I always fear the publisher will have a last second change of heart or that he will suddenly go broke.

RIP Mayor Ed Koch, 88, a quintessential New Yorker who helped bring the city back from the edge of bankruptcy. Whether one agreed with his liberal philosophy or not, there is no doubt he had a positive impact on life. He traveled to all corners of the five boroughs, asking citizens: "How'm I doin'?" I once passed him on Bay Parkway and maintained a neutral demeanor, despite being as cynical as can be about politicians. I passed President Ford with the same indifference in the lobby of one of the Twin Towers. Those two men, from opposite sides of the spectrum, were wonderful human beings. Our current crop of "leaders" could learn a lot from them. In an unbelievable bit of timing, a documentary, Koch, is premiering today.

Passersby must have thought I was nuts setting up shop today. The wind made conditions brutal. I glad I did, though, even though I was uncomfortable the entire hour-and-half I spent out there. The first third of my car was in the cross walk, so I had to sit at the wheel, ready to pull away, should a traffic agent show. I felt I was being stupid until old Simon visited with two more books, and when, a little later Marie donated about 50 CDs of swing and classical music. I would have hated for them to have to lug them back home. Thanks, and to Al, who purchased a Frankie Laine compilation.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3